


On the Gates of Disorder

by amethyst-noir (Arbonne)



Series: Prompt Collection [24]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Timeline What Timeline, Timey-Wimey, Tony Stark Has A Heart, in bits and pieces and out of order, soulmates or something like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbonne/pseuds/amethyst-noir
Summary: Tony barely had time to register ‘magic portal’, followed by ‘time to panic!’, before he recognized the man stepping through the damn thing. He’d never seen the guy before in his life but heknewhim. There was an instant connection that made it easy for Tony to follow a complete stranger through a portal made out of fuckingmagic, despite hating the whole concept with a passion. But the guy - Doctor Stephen Strange, he’d said - just had to look at him and Tony wanted to follow him to the ends of the earth.





	On the Gates of Disorder

**Author's Note:**

> Meet the prompt from an Anonymouse that took me almost two months to wrangle into this (it got complicated):  
>  _I'm such a fan of your ironstrange fics. Yay pining! I noticed that you were open for prompts, and I had an idea a while ago that I tried to wrestle into an actual story and eventually gave up on. Maybe you'll be inspired? 'Maria Stark stared down at her tiny, premature son. "Please don't die," she prayed. / Beverly Strange watched over her too-still baby boy burning with fever and never noticed when her chanted, "Don'tbedead" became "Don'tstaydead".' During Infinity War they feel a connection?_
> 
> Compliments get you something, even if you have to wait for an eternity for it. :) I fell in love with the idea as soon as I read it. Sadly, there's a distinct lack of pining in this particular story but I promise to make up for that soon.
> 
> The title is - once again - taken from a GUNSHIP song: _One last embrace at the gates of disorder / Don’t follow me down / I promise I’ll find you soon._ (Just listen to the _Dark All Day_ album and you’ll probably stumble across my next ten or so titles. That thing is inspiring.)

The odds had been against Tony Stark since the very beginning, even though he never knew about it. Born almost two months too soon in a time when premature babies didn’t have much of a chance it was a miracle that he even survived his first few weeks, let alone grew up healthy to become one - if not _the_ \- greatest mind of his generation.

“You’re my baby and you’re _special_ ,” Maria told the little boy as she held him in her arms for the very first time. The doctors had pretty much given up on him at this point and just waited for the end. “Please, don’t die. There’s so much for you to discover.” She didn’t cry, too afraid it might upset her baby. She needed to be strong for him.

Afterwards, when their dire predictions didn’t come true, his father and the doctors swore it was all the cutting-edge medical care that allowed the tiny baby to survive. His mother and the nurses knew better, of course.

It had been his mother’s love and stubbornness that had saved his life - all the nights spent with her son in her arms, even after Howard had tried to talk her into going home. It was Maria who talked to him, told him about the world and how beautiful it was. How beautiful _he_ was. He was special, she promised him. So, so beautiful and he would change the world. He was _hers_ and she would love and protect him until her last breath.

 _Anthony_ was the name they - Howard - had chosen but she had started calling her baby ‘Tony’ immediately. It was a much better fit for such a tiny, gentle little soul.

“Please don’t die, I love you, I need you” became the mantra she whispered over and over again.

The day she could finally bring her baby home was the best day of her life, even if Howard was away on a business trip to France.

*

_Stephen looked down at Maria Stark but his attention was on the little baby she held in her arms. Tony looked fragile and helpless; both things he’d never associated with him before. He could feel the baby getting weaker and shuddered. “Hold on, Tony,” he begged. “We need you. **I** need you.” He didn't have much time left but he gathered all of his fading strength and concentrated. This was all that mattered. Tony had to survive, otherwise everything was doomed._

_Maria couldn’t feel or see him but the two-week old baby, who shouldn’t be able to see anything at all, looked straight at him. “Hey, Tony,” Stephen said gently and reached out to touch him. “You have to hold on, as your mother said, you’ve still got a lot of things to do.” Even though he was less than a ghost here he swore he could feel the soft skin under his fingers. He tried to give the little soul the strength it would need for the battle ahead. He longed to be able to hold the baby in his arms, but that was impossible. “In the future,” he promised instead. “You have to be there for that.”_

*

“Don’t be dead, _please_!” Beverly begged her little boy. Barely half a year old and already so sick that the doctors didn’t dare to look her in the eye anymore. Again and again she reached out to touch Stephen. She didn’t know what she was hoping for - for the fever to go down, certainly, but she was so afraid to touch her son and feel the coolness of death instead of the heat of fever. “I can’t lose you. I just can’t.” Her tears flowed freely, had been since the moment the doctors had told her that this night would be the deciding one. Her little Stephen would either survive and - hopefully - make a full recovery or he would lose the fight he didn’t even know he was fighting.

By that point Stephen Strange had already lost the first fight of his life but his mother never knew that. He’d already stopped breathing and his heart was on the verge of failure as Beverly reached out, one again. “Come back to me,” she whispered. Did he feel a little bit cooler? Was this it? “Don’t stay dead, we need you. You’ve got a whole life waiting for you. You’re strong, Stephen, I know that. You’ll get through this. We need you.” Her sobbing turned out the little gasp Stephen gave as he suddenly started to breathe again.

*

_Tony was on his knees besides the distraught mother and tried to communicate to her somehow that everything would be okay. He was barely able to look at the baby version of Stephen; he looked so sick that Tony just wanted to take him and cuddle him better. Or take him with him to the future where he could get better help._

_“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” he told him and forced himself to look at the baby that would grow up to become the strongest man Tony had ever known. “But I’m told it’s written in the stars or something like that and we can’t change it without unraveling the fabric of reality or whatever. I just want you to know that this wasn’t my idea. I’m just trying to help.” He reached out and swore he could feel the heat rising from the little body. Such a difference from the Stephen he had gotten to know in fragmented pieces of different timelines who tended to be on the cooler side, always snuggling up to Tony in search of warmth. “You have to come back now, Stephen. I can’t do this without you.”_

*

Tony knew that his birth and first few weeks hadn’t been easy but he didn’t know any details. It didn’t matter. He was the disappointment, the screw-up who tried and failed to be a second Steve Rogers. The approval of his father was unreachable, no matter what he did or how much he tried not to be himself. Then the drugs and the alcohol took over his life and by the time he lost his parents he was so full of resentment and self-hate that he wouldn’t have listened to the story anyway.

*

Stephen, on the other hand, heard the story of his brush with death over and over again. So often, in fact, that he knew from a relatively young age on that he wanted to be one of those who saved lives. His mother was proud of his ambition, his father less so, but Stephen was as stubborn as he was intelligent and fled to med school as soon as his exceptional grades allowed him to.

*

Alcohol, drugs, too much meaningless sex with women and men alike, followed by an abduction and torture where the next two decades of Tony’s life. In the few moments he allowed himself the luxury of thinking about his mother he knew that she would be disappointed, afraid for him and sympathetic in equal measures. He tried not to think about her at all, concentrating on his father instead. Straight up disappointment was easier to bear.

Then he found Pepper. Then he lost her. Found her again. And lost her all over again due to him being an irresponsible fuck-up that never managed to keep anything good in his life except for the few treasured friends he'd made on his way down to hell and who - for reasons unknown - refused to abandon him. He finally arrived at the conclusion that he was meant to be alone and mentally closed the book on the subject.

*

At first Stephen concentrated on his studies. Then, after his first successes, on becoming an even better - the best - surgeon in his chosen field. He had little time or patience for friendships and even less time for relationships. His affairs with other men were few and far between; the ones with women even more so. Being in a relationship was exhausting and inevitable ended with him hurt in one way or the other and he preferred to be alone anyway. Until Christine. The first and only one who refused to let him get away with anything and still stayed at his side. He learned to like to have someone in his life. But then there was the accident and he finally managed to drive her away, too, just after he'd discovered that he wanted to have someone to share everything with. Being alone became a living hell but he’d made his bed and now he had to lie in it.

*

The first time Stephen laid eyes on the real-life version of Tony Stark he felt a spark of… something. Not quite a connection, but there was something familiar, something that didn’t leave him alone. He was fascinated and wanted to get to know the man behind the headlines.

His plans were interrupted by the arrival of Thanos’ henchman and his own abduction, followed by torture, followed by a fight, followed by his death.

*

Tony barely had time to register ‘magic portal’, followed by ‘time to panic!’, before he recognized the man stepping through the damn thing. He’d never seen the guy before in his life but he _knew_ him. There was an instant connection that made it easy for Tony to follow a complete stranger through a portal made out of fucking _magic_ , despite hating the whole concept with a passion. But the guy - Doctor Stephen Strange, he’d said - just had to look at him and Tony wanted to follow him to the ends of the earth.

Tony did. Not only to the ends of the earth but much further into space and onto another planet. And then, even later, into another plane of existence, just to get him - and the rest of half the universe - back where they belonged.

The man was fascinating and Tony felt as if he’d known him for his whole life, without knowing a single thing about him. It was intriguing and Tony wanted, _needed_ , to know everything about him. He had to get him back, no matter the cost. In the end, Tony paid the price gladly. Stephen was more than worth it.

*

“Leave me,” Stephen said. Or at least he tried to. He wasn’t able to form words anymore, could barely get enough breath into his lungs to keep conscious. Thanos latest attack had killed him, his body just took its time in getting on with the program. Right now, freshly revived from dust by Tony Stark, he was busy drowning in his own blood and there was nothing anybody could do. _Get the kid and the others to safety_ , he wanted to add but there was no strength left. He closed his eyes and let himself fall - only to be caught by Tony. He forced his eyes open and really _looked_ for the first time.

 _I know you_ , he thought. There was something else but he couldn’t think any more. There was just an overwhelming sense that being in Tony’s arms was where he was supposed to be. “Hold on, Stephen. I can’t do this without you.” Tony was practically begging by now and the words struck a chord in Stephen. He’d heard them before; the same voice, the same sense of urgency and desperation behind them…

“Sorry,” he breathed and lost consciousness.

*

To his own surprise he not only woke up again but also in considerably less pain then he should be. He couldn’t even feel his hands hurting.

Painkillers, he concluded after a moment. They must be strong to drown out even the chronic pain in his hands but his mind was clear. He didn’t understand.

He forced his eyes open an looked around. He wasn’t in a hospital, even though the room he was in could double as one of the most modern ICUs he’d ever seen. But those rooms hadn’t had the breathtaking view this one had and they definitely didn’t contain one Tony Stark sleeping beside him on a bed that was big enough for two grown men. He wasn’t restrained and despite all the equipment being there, there were no IV-needles and no monitors whatsoever attached to him.

Looking down from Tony’s face to the rest of him he realized that that they were holding hands. A memory nagged at him but he couldn’t catch it. “Tony?” he asked softly but didn’t get a reaction.

“He won’t be awake for a while,” a familiar voice suddenly said. “Astral traveling to the past and back takes quite a lot out of you and he wasn’t in the best of health before that. Don’t worry, he’s going to recover.”

Despite his clear head Stephen was barely able to move; a fact that should have caused a panic attack but he felt so safe that he couldn’t be bothered. He forced his gaze away from Tony and looked up at… himself.

Older, obviously exhausted, looking as if he would collapse any second now and dressed in unfamiliar clothing - wait, was that some kind of armor? It looked like one of Tony's…  A thousand questions rose up at once but Stephen couldn’t even get one of them out. He just stared.

The ghost - and it was a ghost, because he could see through it - of his older self floated nearer and looked at Tony with a fond look before looking at Stephen. The fondness vanished and was replaced with sadness. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do to you. But it’s the only way. I can’t let it happen again.” The ghost touched him on the temples and Stephen’s mind exploded with pain and more knowledge than one single human being should ever have to contain.

*

When he woke up again he was alone in the enormous bed. The pain was gone but the memories remained. He just lay still, trying to come to terms with everything he now knew and how to live his life now that he knew how it was going to end. And what he had to endure until then. Why did Tony bring him back? Hadn’t he paid enough already? Could he justify it to himself to just lie here and will himself to death?

“Welcome back. I know you’re awake and probably drowning in despair. Or self-pity. Or whatever. But I'm here and glad to tell you that this is only one possibility and there’s a chance for a better future.” The mattress shifted as Tony sat down beside him. After a moment of hesitation Stephen could feel a hand touching his arm. The contact was surprisingly welcome.

Well, any other future couldn’t be _worse_ than the one he’d seen. “I’m not supposed to know things like that,” he said finally. "And neither are you." His eyes were still closed; he didn’t want to face reality quite yet. Reality meant wondering why he was in a private hospital room with Tony Stark instead of suffering alone in the Sanctum, waiting for a death that he now knew wouldn’t come. Or thinking about why a specter of his own future had come to heal him and dump a whole load of unwelcome knowledge on him while he was at it.

There was silence as they both thought about Stephen’s words. Then, just as Stephen had gathered enough courage to open his eyes, Tony spoke: “A long time ago I was cursed with the vision of a future so horrible that since that day I did everything in my power to avert it. I invented, I made deals with the devil and politicians, I alienated friends and family. All in the vague hope to never see that one possibility come to pass.” A pause. “Now your future-self has shown me even more terrible things to avoid and a past I’d have preferred to not know about.” The touch on his arm vanished only to be replaced by a hand on his face. “Stephen, look at me, please.” After a moment Stephen did and almost drowned in Tony’s eyes. They were enormous and bright with tears. “But I’ll never regret that I was there when you needed me, back then. I’ll never regret knowing about all those times it _almost_ worked out between us. Now we can make sure that it _will_.”

Suddenly Stephen was the one who had to blink back tears. He still didn’t have the strength to move but he was able to hold Tony’s gaze. He counted it as a victory. “What,” his voice left him. After a moment he tried again. “What did he - _I_ \- show you?”

Tony smiled, full of bitterness and regret. “A highlight reel of the 14.000.605 futures you’ve speed through in search of the one true timeline. And then a trip back to your childhood, when you were almost dying from meningitis when you were a baby.” Tony pulled back with a groan before lying down himself with just the barest minimum of space between them. It was obvious that he didn’t feel much better than Stephen himself. “You’re leading an interesting life, Doctor Sorcerer Supreme.”

“I’m not that”, Stephen protested softly.

“No,” Tony agreed. “But soon. If there’s one thing all the timelines have in common…” His hand was back again but this time it was on Stephen’s neck, just above his pulse point. Chances where he knew how soothing Stephen found it to be touched there. He relaxed almost against his will, just enjoying the gentle contact. “We can prepare now, for everything. I’m not going to die in a botched invasion from another dimension and you won’t have to carry all that guilt around for the rest of your life. Earth is not going to fall. Not on our watch.” Tony hesitated. “You’re not going to die alone and in agony, saving our reality once again; using up the last of your fading strength to come back here to warn us.”

“That’s a paradox”, Stephen interrupted, resigned. “If I don’t do that I won’t come back here to send you on your LSD-trip and warn myself about everything.”

But Tony wasn’t finished. “We’ll find a way, now that we know. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, talking about it. When the time is right you’ll come back here and give me my trip. And then go back to _my_ childhood to get me through my first few weeks on this earth. My mother never told me about how touch and go it was, by the way. And then you’ll come back home. To me.”

“Knew what about what?” Stephen had no idea what Tony was talking about and his head was beginning to hurt from thinking about too many things at once.

Tony just smiled at him. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you later. Looking at you now it won’t happen for a while. Rest now. Your future you did a great job of healing the worst of the damage but you’re still pretty banged up.”

There was so much to do, even more to understand, but Stephen couldn’t concentrate anymore. Tony’s touch on his neck had become soothing strokes that where lulling him back to sleep. He didn’t know anything anymore, felt as hopelessly lost as on his first day in Kamar-Taj. There were so many things to do, to think about, to plan…

“Sleep, Stephen.” Tony came even closer and took him into his arms. The moment his head came to rest on Tony’s shoulder Stephen felt an overwhelming sense of being right where he belonged. Tony knew _exactly_ how he wanted to be held. He dared to snuggle even closer and was rewarded with a tightening of the strong arms around him. The warmth Tony radiated was heaven sent. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Stephen never had heard more wonderful words in his life. He finally stopped the futile fight against his exhaustion and allowed himself to relax into the delightful embrace. There might have been a kiss on his forehead, but he was already drifting away and couldn’t be sure if it was real or just wishful thinking.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://amethyst-noir.tumblr.com/post/180420775486/im-such-a-fan-of-your-ironstrange-fics-yay), if you'd like to visit it. (There are even more author's notes behind the link. Sorry but I like to babble about the stuff I wrote.)


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